


To Love in the Name of Duty

by BlueCrownFics



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Lance (Voltron) are Siblings, Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Matt Holt, Dragon Hunk (Voltron), Dragon Keith (Voltron), Dragon Krolia (Voltron), Dragon Shiro (Voltron), Keith is half-blooded, Lance was adopted into the royal family, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Holt family are humans, original dragon culture, original dragon race, switching POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-04-07 14:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19086607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCrownFics/pseuds/BlueCrownFics
Summary: An unknown virus is running rampant throughout the kingdoms and Altea is the latest hit. With the death toll rising and no cure in sight, Allura, as the Queen of Altea, only has one trick up her sleeve and it's to get her adopted brother to marry into a race of Dragons known for their exceptional healing capabilities.It wouldn't be that difficult, surely?a.k.aAn arranged marriage au set in a fantasy world of my own making, where Lance is Altean and Keith is part-dragon, part-human.





	1. Ten Deca-Phoebs Ago...

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant for the "Hey There, Sharpshooter" big bang but I dropped out last minute due to burnout and post-graduation depression. I've decided to write this story on my own free time. I had planned to keep it short and simple, in order to make it for the check-ins, but I guess we'll just see where the story goes now that I no longer have any time constraints. 
> 
> A few things to note:  
> \- Shiro's pairing is undecided because I can't decide if I want to go with Shiro/Adam, Shiro/Matt or Shiro/Adam/Matt.  
> \- There's going to be a lot of weird terminologies that won't make sense, but I'll provide a guide when it happens.  
> \- I don't know if this is going to turn out good, but I hope it's coherent. The dragon race I'm using is of my own design for my original novels.  
> \- the title may change when and if I think of a better one.

_Ten Deca-Phoebs ago…_

 

“Lance, we’ve been summoned!” Allura’s childish voice carries across the empty hallway despite keeping her tone level. She raps the door with a delicate touch, unsure if its occupant will respond to her initial call. She waits in silence, letting a few ticks pass and then a few doboshes. A pout slowly forms along her face, her cheeks, still rounded with baby fat, grows three sizes bigger as her large, crystalline eyes sharpen into annoyance.

“Lance!” She tries again, her voice increasing in volume with her mounting frustration. It echoes further down the hall and fills her with embarrassment. She ducks her head, vibrant blue eyes scanning the empty halls. Strands of curly, snowy white hair fall over her shoulders and brush her cheeks, obscuring her peripheral vision. She stares down the left wing then the right; the only sounds she can hear is the near-silent hum of the lights above. She takes a breath.

Allura’s fist crashes into the door as she pounds on it. “Wake up Lance!” She squeaks. “Father has an important announcement to tell us and he absolutely refuses to tell me unless we’re both present!” She stops knocking long enough to hear the younger boy’s irritated groan from beyond the door. A triumphant smile crosses her lips. “You have ten doboshes to get up and get moving!”

Suddenly, the door opens with a _whoosh_ , and Allura comes face to face with the short, lanky frame of her adoptive brother. Lance looks very much like the mess Allura expected to see. His hair is a rat’s nest, his pajamas wrinkled and the sluggish way he rubs the sleep out of his crystalline azure eyes makes Allura believe that her brother had been up way past his bedtime again. With a disappointed pout, Allura rests her hands against her hips and glares.

“Honestly, Lance, staying up late after father wishes us a good night is not an acceptable way to stay out of trouble.”

And just as she expects, the weariness in Lance’s gaze morphs into exaggerated indignation. He presses an offended hand against his chest and scoffs.

“Why do you always think I’m getting in trouble? I just woke up!” Lance’s high-pitched, childish voice carries down the hall in the same way it does to Allura, but unlike the princess, Lance doesn’t take notice or seem to care.

“Because you always are,” She huffs. “How many vargas of sleep did you get last night?”

Lance pauses and mulls over the question. Allura’s eyes continue to narrow until the younger boy raises a whole hand into the air. “Five vargas!” He says proudly. Suddenly his eyes widen. “I-I mean—“

But Allura doesn’t let him finish. She merely sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically. Without a word, she rests her hands on Lance’s shoulders and steers him back into the bedroom.

“Honestly Lance, what would Father do if he heard about this?” She asks with a sigh. “What _have_ you been up to these past few days that would warrant sneaking out so late at night?”

“That’s between me and Coran!” He says proudly until his eyes widen for a second time, but Allura cuts off his explanation with a genuine laugh. She leads him into the bathroom to help him get ready for their meeting.

* * *

A few doboshes later, both children are rushing down the halls of the palace with frenetic energy in their step. Now that Lance is more awake and ready to take on the day, the curiosity behind what his father wants is gnawing at his mind. Allura, who seems just as excited and curious, rattles off various possible reasons for their meeting as they hurry along. Her hair ripples down her back like curly waves as she runs. The ripples sparkle elegantly under the light, continuously catching Lance’s gaze despite being so accustomed to his adopted sister’s luminescence.

It doesn't matter how hard Lance tries, his hair will never carry the same pearlescence as Allura’s hair does. While Lance is sure Allura’s beauty has something to do with how pretty both of her parents are, Lance tries his best to replicate her beauty regimen, in hopes that he could be as radiant and cool and awesome as the rest of the royal family. It's one of the many reasons why he sneaks out so late at night. Uncle Coran has so many interesting lotions and products in his room that Lance is _sure_ one of those things will work. _One_ of those things _has_ to make him look more like a member of the royal family. They just _have_ to.

But that isn’t something he can share with Allura. Lance knows she means well, but she’s always been dismissive about his concerns, even when she doesn't mean to be. To Allura, they are siblings, regardless of their blood; regardless of the rumors. While Lance is grateful, it doesn't assuage his worries.

Now, as they rush through a crowd of mingling Alteans, narrowly avoiding the servants preparing for lunch, Lance’s eyes are focused on Allura’s wildly rippling hair. The laugh that bubbles past his lips is breathless yet genuine. The joy and excitement he feels gripping his chest is exhilarating.

They burst into the throne room where their father stands, back turned to them, as he consults various advisors about matters they’re both too young to understand. The throne room itself is surprisingly warm and bright today despite the usual coldness radiating from the vast, overarching walls. It's spacious, and mostly empty, save for the throne that sits in the northernmost part of the room. It’s a place Lance isn’t fond of, despite Alfor’s gentle nature. The room itself is intimidating in ways Lance doesn't quite understand, and while it’s the room King Alfor often resides in, it’s one Lance doesn’t usually visit. Whenever he sees his father, it’s always in intimate settings, like the study, the dining hall or in the gardens. But here, in this vastly barren room where numerous nameless faces come and go, Lance finds the disconnect harsh.

He hates it, and he hopes, whatever news Alfor wants to tell them, isn’t to be shared here, in such a loud, open place.

“Father, we’re here!” Allura declares once they’re close enough to grab his attention. She’s just as breathless as Lance is, her small chest heaving with every breath she takes.

Lance reaches her side before Alfor can turn around, and in perfect unison, both children bow politely and respectfully before their father.

“We’ll discuss this matter later,” Alfor says quickly, dismissing his advisors. He turns to the children, and a warm, gentle smile graces his lips. There’s a sparkle of amusement in their eyes as he scans over them. A beat of silence passes between them until Alfor scoops both small children into his strong arms.

Allura and Lance squeal in delight, their laughter carrying pleasantly across the vast chamber. Various servants who still mingle about, eye the small family curiously. Some of them quickly bury their secretive smiles while others watch unabashedly.

“You two took long enough,” Alfor chuckles, holding each child carefully in his hands. “I was worried you both had gotten lost.”

“Lance felt the need to oversleep,” Allura teases. “So _I_ had to help him get ready.”

Lance gasps dramatically, scandalized. “I did not!” he pouts.

Before a playful argument can break out, Alfor’s laughter silences the bickering children. He’s already out of the throne room and into the private halls before either child can realize.

“Up late again, I suppose?” Alfor muses with a quirked eyebrow. He laughs again when both Lance and Allura shoot him surprised looks. “Coran is a man of loose lips,” he teases.

Lance frowns. “Traitor,” he whispers, much to Alfor’s amusement. “I trusted him!”

“You can have your revenge once we’re done. I have… important matters to discuss with you both.”

The seriousness in Alfor’s tone, although still light-hearted, catches Lance’s and Allura’s attention. They settle down immediately and allow the man to carry them into his private study room.

The room itself is warm and cozy. It smells sweetly despite the hundreds of books adorning the walls and the vibrant carpeting beneath their feet. The draperies are pulled open, allowing the bright afternoon sun to illuminate the silent room.

Alfor sets both children down gently, then shuts the door behind them. Lance and Allura find a seat in front of his desk and watch him with bated breath as Alfor serves them sweets and juice. Despite the excitement still buzzing through their veins, Lance and Allura cut into their pastries as they’d been taught to do by their handlers. Alfor watches them for a moment before finally sitting.

“I know you both are still very young, and what I’m about to tell you may be difficult to understand, but I believe you are both old enough to know.” He has their full attention now, their utensils frozen in midair. “There will be some changes in the coming days to accommodate for what I’m about to share. I want you both to be aware of this and to be prepared. I wish for you two to have an open mind, even if it may be difficult, and to hear me out until the very end. Can you two promise me that?”

“Yes, father,” they murmur, eyes wide with intrigue.

Alfor’s smile is kind, if somewhat wistful. Lance catches it but isn’t sure of what to make of it. He’s never seen that look on his father’s face before, not since Queen Melenor’s passing, and even then, the look of a grief-stricken Alfor was something vastly different than this expression. Lance bites his lower lip, uncertainty shadowing his excitement.

King Alfor’s eyes jump between them, taking in their expectant faces for a moment. He sinks back into his chair and heaves a heavy sigh.

“Zarkon has given me a proposition, one that would, perhaps, be in the best interest of our people. I know this is… sudden, but... given that you two are rather fond of Prince Lotor—“

“I’m not fond of him,” Lance interjects with a childish pout. “Just because Allura has a crush on him doesn’t mean _I_ like him.”

Allura’s cheeks darken from embarrassment, her hackles rising. She shoots Lance an indignant look and before she can get the chance to reply, Alfor clears his throat. Her retort dies in her throat and all eyes are back on the king.

“You’ll have to make nice with him, Lance, because as of today, he is betrothed to Allura.”

Allura shoots out of her chair before Alfor is finished speaking and nearly spills her slice of cake onto the floor. “He’s _what_?!” She squeaks, her voice cracking from the sudden strain. She scrambles to regain poise, but the giddy embarrassment of finding out she would someday marry her longtime crush was overriding her princess lessons. Lance, on the other hand, rolls his eyes and sinks further into his chair. Sulkily, he scoops up a large portion of cake and shoves it into his mouth.

Great, just _great_. Prince Lotor is a nuisance. Lance has known the Galtean Prince since they were practically in diapers, and though he can barely remember most of their interactions, only one thing has stayed consistent through the years and that is Prince Lotor’s haughty behavior, especially in regards to Lance. The way he acts around Allura is vastly different than his interactions with Lance, and while he isn’t necessarily the _worst_ person Lance has had the displeasure of knowing, he's not even close to the best. He's annoying and the way Allura acts when Lotor’s name was mentioned is equally as annoying.

Still, Lance watches Allura fret and panic around the study, her words a jumbled mess and her usually neat, curly mane of hair suddenly chaotic. He shoves another slice of cake into his mouth and chews.

Well, at least it isn’t _him_ getting married.

* * *

 

_Ten Deca-Phoebs later…_

 

Lance slams his hands against the desk with such force, it rattles the porcelain tray of sweets and makes his cup wobble dangerously. Allura, who sits across the desk from him, raises a fine eyebrow tauntingly.

“You can’t just _do_ that, Allura!” Lance cries. “You can’t just-just decide what I can and cannot do with my life without my permission! You’re my _sister!_ ”

“I am doing what is best for our people, Lance,” Allura sighs for the umpteenth time since the conversation started. She reaches across the desk for her abandoned cup of tea and carefully nurses it in her hand. “I understand that you are upset, but please remember what father told us all those deca-phoebs ago—“

“That was _deca-phoebs_ ago, Allura!” He interjects, his frustration mounting. Lance exhales in his exasperation. He jerks away from Allura’s presence and begins to pace the office that once belonged to their late father. “Think about what you’re doing here. You literally just told the Chief of this-this _barbaric_ tribe that you’d be willing to _marry me off_!” He stops in his tracks and settles Allura with a desperate look. “You can’t do this to me!”

“The Dreki are not barbarians, Lance,” Allura says with furrowed brows. “They are an intelligent, yet mysterious group of beings that require our assistance. Lotor and I saw an opportunity to better ensure the future of our people combined and so did their Chief.” She gently sets down the porcelain cup and rises. “Krolia is the _Xahe_ of her clan—“

“The what now?”

“—and her people are in danger of dying, just as we all are. The sickness is spreading, Lance. The rate of infection has tripled in the past year. Please understand, I know this is unfair to you, but as the royal children of the Altean and Galra kingdoms, we must perform our duties.”

The severity in her voice is not lost to Lance. He stops his pacing long enough to take in the expression on her face—wistful, yet dour—and he scowls, frustrated. Lance knows how things are between the Alteans and the Galra. The war between them may have been over, thanks to the contractual peace brought forth by his sister’s and Prince Lotor’s marriage, but the passing of King Alfor and Emperor Zarkon, and the sudden rise of a mysterious lethal illness has put both of their kingdoms in dire straits.

The Dreki, a tribe of mysterious, selective beings Lance has only ever read about through his studies growing up, were a small, yet powerful group. They may not have political sway in the same way the Alteans and the Galra do, but Lance understands exactly why Allura and Lotor would propose the stupidest deal on the face of the planet. The Dreki are best known for their extraordinary healing abilities. If the Altean and Galra alchemists are unable to find a cure for the virus currently ravaging their kingdom, it's possible—expected even—that the _Dreki_ know how. According to legends, their race is enriched by the quintessence of the world, after all. A marriage between Lance and whomever the Chief had offered to his sister would put the Alteans in the best position to find a way to save their society.

Still, did Lance really want give up his opportunity to love for the sake of his people? Realistically, it was his duty as Prince of Altea, even if he was only their prince through name and not by blood.

“Lance, please.” Allura’s voice drags him out of his thoughts. She’s suddenly in front of him, crystalline eyes peering into his own with worried brows. She wraps her arms around his slender chest and pulls him into a hug. Lance can’t remember the last time they hugged like this. In the back of Lance's mind, he thinks it hasn't happened since they were children. “I’m sorry. I am honestly, truly sorry. I know I should’ve consulted with you before going through with the proposal, but, Lance… I’ve _seen_ what’s been happening to the Galra. What’s been happening to _our_ people.”

It’s not good, Lance knows. He may have been cooped up in the palace walls, thanks to Coran choosing his schedule, but he has eyes and ears everywhere. He knows what the guards say; he's heard the gossip from the maids.

They’ve started to burn the bodies of the dead.

“I know it’s bad,” He sighs, wilting into his sister’s touch. He holds onto her delicately, reveling in her familiar and comforting warmth. Her touch reminds him of their mother, or at least, the few vague memories he has of her.

“It’s more than ‘bad’,” Another voice speaks.

Lance and Allura turn toward the door just in time to catch sight of Lotor slipping into the study on deft feet. The click of the door shutting behind him is surprisingly loud in the otherwise quiet office. His eyes fall on Allura, and the smile he gives to his wife is warm and vibrant. Lotor’s eyes jump toward Lance, and while the smile isn’t quite as warm, it’s not outright cold either. Lance tries his best to keep his hackles from rising, but even after ten deca-phoebs of dealing with his brother-in-law, he _still_ can't get over his irritation with the Galtean King.

“I believe ‘horrific’ would be a better term for the situation,” Lotor continues. He eyes the Altean siblings for a moment, a fine eyebrow quirking. “You two are hugging.”

Lance feels his eyebrow twitch. “Yeah, _and_?”

Lotor shrugs, the corner of his lips curving upward slightly. “Merely curious. I haven’t seen such affection since, oh what was it? Allura’s coming of age ball.”

Allura detangles herself from Lance’s arms and settles her spouse with an unenthused stare. He chuckles but drops the subject, and just like that, the atmosphere between them grows somber. Lance mulls Allura’s proposition over in his mind.

This arranged marriage is not his choice. It’s not political in the same way Allura’s and Lotor’s marriage was, but the bottom line remains the same. To ensure the survival of both races, Lance has to make friends with a barbaric, underdeveloped group of people, in hopes that they have the ability to, somehow, save two nations from extinction. Instead of choosing who his future spouse would be, he will be betrothed to whatever daughter this _Xahe_ had—whatever _that_ means.

With a long, defeated sigh, Lance’s shoulders sag. “Alright, fine,” He murmurs. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry the Chief’s daughter.”

Allura’s smile is bright but short lived. It’s almost comical how quickly her joy is replaced with worry and when she glances across the room to Lotor, who stands in front of the desk, in the middle of grabbing a pastry from the platter, does Lance suddenly realizes that he’s missing something very important.

His eyes jump between the two of them, worry gnawing in the back of his mind.

“What? What did I say?”

“Have you not told him?”

“I didn’t get the chance to,” Allura grimaces. She turns to Lance then and gives him wide, doey eyes. It’s the same expression she used to give him when they were kids when she wanted a favor from him that Lance _knew_ he wouldn’t like. “Lance, my dear, wonderful baby brother—“

“Oh no,” Lance interjects, nerves screaming. “Oh no, no, no _nonono_ —!” With every backward step he takes, Allura follows, until his back is pressed against the wall on the other side of the room and Allura is peering into his face with vibrant, innocent eyes. “No! I change my mind! I am not marrying a _prince!”_

“Yes, you will. You promised!”

“I did not!”

“You absolutely did,” Lotor cuts in, holding an Altean delicacy in his hand. “I heard you with my own ears.”

“ _Liar!_ ”

“It’s settled then,” Allura smiles, whirling around on her heels and whipping Lance in the face with her white, curly mane. “We will tell Krolia the engagement is finalized.”

“Allura, _no!_ I’m not marrying a prince!” Lance huffs.

Allura turns to him again, an impish gleam in her eyes that suddenly makes Lance’s hackles rise.

“Not even if he’s _handsome_?” She teases innocently. “I know you tend to like your suitors pretty.”

Lance squares his shoulders and raises his chin just enough to make him appear defiant, but deep down inside, he’s quaking. He _does_ love beautiful people, and while Lance knows absolutely nothing about the Dreki, he does know _one_ thing: they _are_ pretty. Pretty in the way all exotic people tend to be, with large, breathtaking wings and interesting, yet frightening horns. When Lance first met the humans, back when he was a very small child, he thought they were pretty. Not nearly as gorgeous as the Alteans or sturdily built like the Galra, of course, but definitely pretty enough for him to understand why certain Alteans and Galra would sneak into the human territories to elope. But the Dreki? They are a different kind of pretty.

Lance curses his stuttering heart for a moment. Allura’s smile grows impish by the second, and despite his earlier defiance, Lance realizes she can see right through him.

“Fine,” He sighs in defeat. “But he better be _breathtaking_ , Allura. I mean it. If he doesn’t make my jaw drop, I’m calling the whole thing off.”

“It won’t be that simple,” Lotor says, much to Lance’s irritation. “Calling off an arranged marriage of this caliber—“

“Deal.” Allura smiles, holding out her hand toward Lance. “But I’m pretty sure you have nothing to worry about.”

Lance doesn’t like the level of confidence his sister is showing, but he takes her hand into his and they shake on it.


	2. Freefall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith deals with the news of his arranged marriage in the only way he can—by himself at the edge of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the feedback on the first chapter T-T I'm really humbled.
> 
> In this chapter, we take a peek into Keith's thoughts and emotions as well as just a peek of what the Dreki are like!

Keith stands at the top of the world with his violet eyes facing the sky and arms resting at his sides. It's cold at this altitude, but the air is clean. With every deep breath he takes, he feels the chill of the spring morning rush into his lungs. The wind is stronger in this place than it is down below, but it's not enough to cool the fire within him. His clothes whip and ripple around him, and his shaggy, ebony locks of hair lash against his cold, pale cheeks, but Keith doesn’t mind the sting. It’s only him and the world out here; the sky's the prettiest blue he’s ever seen and the mountains surrounding his home are large, their pointed tops covered in snow.

He’s not at the highest point yet, but someday, he will be. He holds his arms out. They’re cold and pale, thanks to the wind. It’s the perfect weather for a flight. The thought of the wind beneath his wings, soaring high above the mountainous reigns, fills Keith with a sense of exhilaration. Keith feels his wings extend behind him. The wind brushes against the thin, leathery membrane of his wings, and it takes a lot of strength to keep himself grounded. He takes another breath and stares at the world below.

It’s just him at the edge of the world. The river that flows between where he stands and the cliff on the other side are merely a sliver. It looks like a silvery, curly snake, winding around corners and dipping off to the side and into the Beyond below.

He’s tried to follow the Great Waterfalls, to sneak past the barriers that surround the Xeisan Isles and into the great Beyond below, but the winds are too strong. They always blast him right back to the beginning no matter how deep or fast he dives.

Keith takes a step forward. Rocks shift and clatter beneath his feet; smaller pieces break off the ledge and disappear to the river below. His heart pounds in his chest, but he’s not afraid. A smile creeps along his face—he’s exhilarated. Ready.

He tenses for the leap—

The whoosh of movement behind him snaps Keith out of his thoughts. The blast of strong wind nearly pushes him off the ledge, but he stands his ground and tucks his wings against his back as he turns on his heel. A large, reptilian creature lands just a few feet away from him, shaking the ground with its immense weight. A bright flash of light washes over the scene. When Keith finally blinks the blind spots from his eyes, he’s face to face with another man.

He’s rather tall, with broad shoulders and short, black cropped hair, though there’s a streak of white that cuts through the inky blackness. It reminds Keith of the day when his friend had first revealed it to him. The streak of white in his friend’s black hair is a sign of survival… and strife; a situation he managed to escape from during a battle with the Xeno. The pale, pink scar that’s slashed across the older man’s face is another reminder of how dangerously close his friend came to losing that battle. But that was years ago, and now, both marks only serve to make his companion look cool. At least, Keith thinks it does.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” His companion says, the smile he gives him is soft, though there’s a hint of amusement in his dark eyes. “You are really hard to find when you don’t want to be found.”

“Good,” Keith grins, crossing his arms against his chest. “Maybe you and Adam will get the hint.”

“Unlikely,” His friend chuckles.

He approaches the ledge and cautiously peeks down below. Keith notices the way his friend’s large, furled wings twitch from the momentary shock of their height before he pulls away and quirks a curious brow Keith’s way.

“What?” Keith frowns. “Too high? I’m not a _kas_ anymore, Shiro.”

“I never said you were,” His companion, Shiro, shrugs, a glimmer of amusement twinkles in his eyes. “But, it’s still pretty high up.”

“I’m the fastest flyer in the clan.”

Shiro eyes him up and down before nodding. It's not up for debate; facts are facts. Keith isn’t boasting for the sake of his pride; he _is_ the most agile of the Dreki and despite not being able to fully shift like the rest of clan, he can outmaneuver anyone in the sky if he needs to. Being half-blooded, Keith is at a disadvantage in most things, but he doesn't let this shortcoming stop him. His mother is the _Xahe_ of their clan, and as their _xalep_ —their prince—he has to be able to hold his own in case anyone challenges him. No one has recently, or at least, not since Keith became of age.

They fall into an amiable silence then, and while Keith watches Shiro find peace with the tranquility of the world, he can’t help but wonder exactly _why_ his friend is here to begin with. Not that he minds Shiro’s company. Shiro is one of the very few friends Keith has in the clan, but Shiro is also a _carim_ , a warrior appointed by the Xahe of their clan. As their best carim, Shiro really has no business being this high up with a misfit like Keith.

“Did Nas’e send you?” Keith asks, breaking their peaceful silence. When Shiro doesn’t immediately respond, Keith’s brows furrow. He turns his attention back toward the chasm. The wind whips past them again, its soft howl rising. “So you know about the arrangement.” He says. It’s not a question.

From his peripheral vision, he catches Shiro’s curt nod. It takes most of Keith’s willpower to keep his anger from building. His hands form into a fist, his nails nearly prick his skin.

“I take it you’re okay with this? I don’t get to choose a mate.”

“You said you didn’t want one.”

“I never said I didn’t want one!” Keith snaps, a bit more harshly than he means to. “Only that—“ his voice trails off, the words on the tip of his tongue. _Who would ever want me?_ Silence hangs uneasily in the air between them. It’s a sore topic, one Keith doesn’t like to bring up when he’s so high up in the world, but it’s a fact and one of the many _truths_ he’ll have to face.

Keith is only half-Dreki. He’s smaller than the rest, can’t fully shift like the others and his serious lack of abilities makes him a liability during hunts. He’s more human than dragon, despite his appearance, and while his clan has loved him unconditionally since his birth, Keith has always felt like he doesn't—won't ever— fit in.

In the end, he can’t help but wonder who would want to form a mateship with someone like him?

Shiro’s heavy sigh carries with the wind. It snaps Keith out of his self-deprecating thoughts, violet, sharp eyes stare at the older Dreki for a moment. With the wind picking up, it's getting harder and harder for Keith to make sense of the emotions he can pick up from Shiro’s scent. In fact, he can barely smell the other Dreki now that the wind has picked up strength.

“I know it’s unfair to you,” Shiro starts, but it's hard to make out his words over the rising howl. He stops for a moment, eyes the distance between them and the river below. Suddenly, he gives Keith a challenging smile. “Race you to the bottom?”

“You’re on!”

Shiro doesn’t even give Keith a chance to finish speaking before he dives to the depths below. With an indignant howl, Keith follows suit. He dives headfirst off the ledge and whoops loudly from the exhilaration coursing through his veins. The cold early spring wind whips past his face, howling in his ears. The smile that curls across his lips as he chases the tail end of his companion is wild but free. The winding river grows and grows as they descend, and it's not until Keith pushes past Shiro in their free fall does he finally extend his wings. He rides the momentum of the wind and flies parallel to the river until they’re out of the canyon and back into the open fields of their quiet home.

Shiro catches up to him fairly quickly, his laughter is breathless, but his smile wide. They ride the winds easily into the approaching woods, past the rocky hills and down again into the valley.

By the time they reach their village, the sky above is painted in warm hues of the setting sun. The darkness of night is approaching fast, and already, Keith can see the first twinkle of starlight above. They land on deft feet, their wings carefully refurling again while other members of the clan greet them respectfully. The adrenaline rush from their free fall leaves Keith’s body before he’s fully prepared, and he stumbles, exhaustion already prickling against his eyelids. Shiro chuckles behind him then pats his shoulder with a heavy, strong hand.

“I thought you weren’t a _kas_ anymore?” He teases. He laughs harder when Keith shoves his hand away and settles him with a dangerous, yet harmless, glare. The good mood doesn’t last long. The moment Keith’s eyes fall on the large yurt in front of them sours his mood. Shiro’s smile falls and clears his throat, grabbing the young xalep’s attention. “I know it’s unfair what Krolia is asking of you. Not being able to choose your own mate… I can’t imagine the frustration and betrayal you must be feeling right now. But… hear her out. Maybe, it won’t be as bad you think.” Shiro gives him a reassuring smile before walking past Keith and into the yurt where the Xahe awaits them.

Keith rolls his eyes, but Shiro’s words settle deeply within his mind. His sense of dread grows the closer he gets to the large, dome shape yurt that’s built from thick wood logs and covered in dark animal skins and tree leaves. It blends in well with the rest of the forest around them, but the smoke that spews out from the top lets Keith know that his mother is already waiting for him inside. With a heavy sigh, he marches into the yurt.

* * *

 

Krolia sits in the far back of the yurt, north of the fire pit burning and crackling in the center of the room. She doesn’t notice Keith’s presence at first, as her attention is focused on the person next to her, a plate of food on her lap. Sitting beside her, casually eating dinner, is Keith’s father. He’s the only other human in the entire clan, and perhaps, the only human known alive to have successfully mated with a Dreki leader. He sticks out like a sore thumb among the winged individuals, but there’s something about the sight of his parents, completely enamored with each other, that makes Keith’s chest feel warm.

Keith scans the room briefly and takes notice of Shiro, who gives him a thumbs up while he strolls to the western side of the yurt where a burly, heavyset Dreki prepares his meal. He scoffs, but the sound travels far enough for Krolia to hear. She turns her attention his way and, without a word, rises to her feet.

The quiet, barely audible murmurs of voices from the other Dreki immediately fall silent, and all eyes are on Keith before he realizes it.

It’s not his mother who breaks the silence but his father, who asks: “Did you have fun today?”

Keith shrugs, though the satisfied smirk he gives them is hard to deny. “Considering I didn’t have to hear about how Nas’e sold my life away to a Xeno, yeah, I’d say I had fun.”

“And you’re still mad about that,” His father murmurs, more to his dinner than to Keith. “Good to know.”

Keith catches the slightest shift in his mother’s stance. He can’t quite pick up the stench of her annoyance from where he stands, but he can tell, from the way her brows are pinched together, that she’s still very much annoyed with him for his defiance.

“You sent Shiro out to find me,” He states.

Krolia gives the carim the barest of glances before her violet eyes are back on Keith.

“I did,” She says with a small nod. “I’ve given you two days to come to terms with this, Keith. Have you decided?”

“Like I ever had a choice,” He grumbles. It’s almost comical to think that while Krolia gave him two days to “mull things over” he knew he never had a choice to begin with.

The Dreki don’t choose their mates in the same way the Xeno do. There is no such thing as “arranged marriages” or even “marriages” in general, such a concept is a thing for the humans or the Alteans. The Dreki find _mates_ , partners for their souls to be tethered to for the rest of their lives. Choosing a mate is a _huge_ thing in their culture, but this? Keith doesn't understand why his mother would go against the wishes of the Elders and marry him off to some… _Xeno._

“Have an open mind, _hyki,_ ” His mother sighs, and immediately, Keith feels the rush of heat pool into his cheeks. Did she seriously just call him that right in front of the others?

As if to prove his point, someone chuckles on the western side of the yurt. Keith shoots the burly, heavy-set Dreki in the corner a dark look and smirks in satisfaction when the other Dreki ducks his head into his meal. He doesn’t miss the eye roll Shiro gives the two of them. Krolia, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice.

“You may end up liking this one.”

“Yeah, right,” Keith scoffs. “You’re expecting me to like someone I don’t even know, let alone form an everlasting bond with them.”

“Which is why I’ve asked the Xahe of the Alteans to bring your future mate here.” Krolia falls back into her chair with a smug smile just as Keith’s whole body stiffens in horror. “I can’t force you to bond with a Xeno, you’re absolutely right about that. So, I’ve gone ahead and asked the Xahe of the Alteans to allow us to host her eeko until the mateship is finalized.”

Someone—it sounds suspiciously like Shiro—chokes on their drink and proceeds to destroy their lungs in a coughing fit. Keith doesn’t spare his other companions a glance despite the desperate urge for a distraction. He eyes his mother with wide, stunned eyes, his jaw slackened. His father is conveniently silent, his attention drawn completely on his meal.

Krolia rests her chin on her cheek and flashes him a daring, yet sickeningly sweet smile. “Does that suit your needs better, _hyki_?” She purrs the endearing term as affectionately as she can despite the situation. It takes all of Keith’s willpower now to burn under the embarrassment. Or the rage. He’s not sure which one he feels stronger at the moment.

“Fi-fine,” He croaks. He scowls, clears his throat again then straightens his back. “ _Fine,_ ” He says more confidently. “I’ll play host to _your_ guest. But if he gets on my nerves, I’m dropping him off a cliff. Last time I checked, these Altean people don’t have wings.”

Krolia’s gaze turns steely. “I hope you’re joking.”

Keith clicks his tongue. “We’ll see.”

Krolia settles in her chair again, her earlier irritation finally giving way to a more amicable mood. “You better be. The Alteans will be here in the morning.”

Keith’s eyebrows raise into his hairline, and the sharp, tangy scent that wafts beneath his nose tells him that he’s not the only one surprised. The way the scent fills the room leads Keith to believe that Krolia hadn’t shared the news with anyone until now.

“How long will they be staying?” It’s Shiro who asks. He steps away from the small group of Dreki in the corner, each one eyeing him and their Xahe with curious eyes.

“They will leave before the night’s end at the earliest,” Krolia responds. Her eyes flick toward the burly Dreki behind Shiro, and Keith watches the way he jerks to attention. “Hunk, I’ll need you to prepare a feast for our guests. Even if they only plan on staying for a day, we’ll show them the hospitality of our clan.” She finishes with a smile, her first one in a few days if Keith recalls correctly.

Hunk nods his head quickly. He stuffs his face with what’s left of his dinner, wipes his mouth on a cloth and then hurries out of the yurt, most likely to prepare.

Keith sighs, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. This was another thing he hated about Xenos, they always wanted some sort of party. If there was one thing Keith hated more than being forced to bond with someone he didn’t know, it was parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocabulary terms:
> 
> Carim - warrior  
> Nas'e - Mother  
> Xahe - Female Leader  
> Kas - baby  
> Xalep - prince  
> Xeno - foreigners/non-Dreki  
> Hyki - beloved/favorite child  
> Eeko - brother


	3. The Xeisan Isles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Co. travel to the mysterious Xeisan Isles and meet an unlikely group along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the chapters lately have been kinda slow, but world building takes a lot of precedents. I hope the story is interesting so far OTL. In the next chapter, Keith will finally get to meet his mate-to-be!

_The Xeisan Isles are a series of floating land masses known to follow a projected directory across the oceans. What inhabits the floating islands are currently unknown, but many speculate the Xeisan Isles is home to hundreds of unknown species and—_

Lance pauses, fine white brows furrowed. He lifts the tablet closer to his face, blue eyes scrutinizing the previous passage. The hustle and bustle of the maids around him seems distant, even as they frantically try to prepare the young prince of his departure. He pinches the screen of his tablet with his index finger and thumb and then spreads them apart. The words on the digital history book grow larger until only a few words take up the whole screen.

He rereads the passage slowly. He clicks his tongue.

“Allura!” He calls, somehow half expecting his sister to hear him despite being on the other side of the palace. “ _Allura!_ ”

“Your majesty—!” One of the maid’s call out, but it’s too late. Lance has disappeared beyond the sliding door.

It doesn’t take him long to find her, but given the urgency of his recent discovery, he’s still agitated by the time he reaches her. Amidst the activity of the palace, Queen Allura sticks out like a sore thumb. King Lotor does too, but Lance’s attention remains solely on his sister and when he brushes past a gaggle of Altean maids—everyone of them squeaking in apology for not noticing his presence—Lance’s agitation grows.

Allura’s back is still turned to him, her attention preoccupied with Altean and Galran Alchemists. It’s Lotor who notices him first, and he fixes the prince with a quirked brow before Lance can reach his sister.

“Allura!” Lance almost screams, his frustration mounting. “I think you forgot to tell me about their whole _quiznacking_ island being a _floating rock!_ ”

A hushed silence falls throughout the throne room. Everyone freezes in place, all eyes on the prince and Queen, but Lance doesn’t notice, nor does he care. He extends the tablet toward his sister and taps his foot expectantly against the red, rolled out carpeting.

“We will continue this discussion later,” He hears Allura say and watches the Alchemist excuse themselves from her presence.

“Well now,” Lotor chuckles, turning to Lance with an amused smirk. “This shall be quite entertaining.”

“Allura—“

“ _Lance,”_ She hisses, whipping around to him so fast, her luxurious hair whips around and smacks Lotor in the face and chest. (He stumbles backward, shocked from the unexpected attack.) Her dark cheeks are darker than usual as an embarrassed blush blossoms across her cheeks. “Are you _mad_? _In front of the others?!_ ” Her voice comes out in a rushed hush as she eyes the rest of the servants.

They quickly return to their duties, but the soft murmurs Lance can hear under their breaths leads him to believe they’ll be talking about this scene for the rest of the day. As far as Lance is concerned, it’s nothing compared to the indignation he's feeling now. He shoves the tablet into Allura’s face again and frantically points to the one word that fills the screen.

“Floating islands, Allura!” He squeaks, voice cracking. “ _Floating_! _Islands!_ ”

Allura swats the tablet away and grabs both Lance’s and Lotor’s hands. She drags them out of the throne room and down the hall.

“Yes, yes, _and_?” She presses, finally releasing them once they are alone in an empty hallway. “The Xeisan Isles are a cluster of landmasses that float above the ocean. It is the home to the Dreki, I thought you were aware of this Lance. Have you not been taking your lessons?”

“We _just_ discovered these people! How was _I_ supposed to know they live on a quiznacking floating rock!”

“Technically, we, too, live on a “quiznacking” floating rock,” Lotor unhelpfully supplies.

Both Lance and Allura shoot him a withering glare. The Galtean King chuckles.

“Please watch your language, Lance,” Allura admonishes. They follow her into their father’s old office and Lance watches as Allura collapses into the chair. “So they live on an unexplored floating island. What’s the problem?”

“How do you expect us to get there? Or to find it? Do we even know _where_ it is right now?”

“Yes,” Allura says simply. Her confidence surprises Lance. “We’ve been tracking the island’s location for several months now. It’s how we were able to communicate with their Xahe after all.”

“It’s a rather pesky cluster of islands,” Lotor murmurs, though Lance isn’t sure if he meant to say that out loud or to himself. “But it would appear that the humans have managed to track it as well.”

Now _that_ is a surprise. Lance doesn’t know much about their human neighbors. His interactions with them have been limited throughout the years since he’d been too young to behave himself during their court, and whatever studies he has been forced to read on the subject are… too boring, if he's being honest. The humans being able to track down a series of floating islands with their limited technology is news to him.

“I didn’t think they had the technology to do that,” He says, eyes wide.

Lotor shrugs, almost as if he’s just as surprised as Lance. “They have their ways, I suppose.”

“You two are unbelievable,” Allura sighs, though there’s a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Don’t let the ambassador hear you talking like this. Our human neighbors are quite lovely.”

“When they want to be,” Lotor mutters.

Lance snaps back to the important topic at hand and settles his tablet between himself and Allura. He sits down on the chair across the desk and crosses his arms against his chest.

“So, how do you expect to get me there? And, by the way, do these people even _live_ in houses? The aerial images in this book don’t tell me _anything_.”

“We’ll get there by flight,” His sister says seriously, eyes suddenly bright with determination. “As for their living arrangements… we’ll just have to see.”

“Oh great,” Lance grumbles. He doesn’t like the sound of this at all.

* * *

 

Air travel is something Lance has always loved but has never had the pleasure of indulging. Being the Prince of Altea, regardless of blood, means Lance is limited in the things he can and cannot do. Getting to travel via air is one of the things he isn’t allowed to do. At least not without an escort of guards and a professional behind the wheel.

Lance wants his _own_ experience. He wants to take their best fighter jet and push that puppy to the max! Alas, the last time he tried to sneak out and steal one of Altea’s planes, Alfor had him on lockdown until his sixteenth birthday.

Now, as he follows his sister and brother in law into the carrier plane that will take them across the ocean and into the Xeisan Isles, he can’t help but feel the desire burn into him. The carrier plane is large. It’s not quite the largest plane in Altea’s arsenal from what Coran has told him, but it’s bigger than the royal family needs. Most of Lance’s luggage is secured tightly near the back of the plane. It’s not much, most of his things—his less important things—are still left in his room back at the palace, but the luggage he _does_ have is more than he needs for a permanent stay with a bunch of barbarian creatures.

As Lance is strapped securely into his seat by the servants, he can’t help but feel slightly bitter. Allura and Lotor sit across from him, both of them outfitted in their standard traveling garments. None of them look like they’re ready for a trek in the woods or mountain ranges, and despite the thinness of Lance’s silky clothes, he feels like he’ll be sweating up a storm fairly quickly.

Various members of the Knights’ guard take up the extra seats behind them, but Lance’s attention is immediately drawn to a blonde haired Altean woman. A member of the servant’s staff escorts her to the empty seat next to Lance. She sits down with an excited huff and waves excitedly to Allura and Lotor as the servant straps her in.

“Romelle?” Lance questions in surprise. “You’re coming too?”

“Allura invited me,” Romelle says brightly, her pink eyes sparkling. “Isn’t this exciting? We’re going outside of the kingdom!”

Romelle is Allura’s lady-in-waiting and her best friend since childhood. She, like Lance, has never been outside of the kingdom walls, despite Allura’s many travels. It surprises Lance that she’s here with them now, but her bubbly and bright smile somehow eases the bitterness that’s simmering within him.

He casts Allura a careful glance and catches her telltale smile.

“Worry not, your majesty!” Coran, their advisor and surrogate uncle, boasts once everything is ready. “I’ll make sure everything runs smoother than a baby’s bottom while you’re all gallivanting about with the Dreki!”

“Thank you, Coran,” Allura chuckles. “We’ll be back by tomorrow night at the latest.”

“I have no doubt about it,” Coran nods. He turns on his heel and settles Lance with an expectant stare. Before Lance has a chance to say a word, Coran bends down at the waist and wraps his arms around Lance. It’s unexpected, but Lance returns the hug fiercely

“We don’t know much about the Dreki,” Coran starts, his fuzzy red-orange mustache tickling Lance’s ear lobe. “Or the specifics behind what makes their island float, but if you ever need to reach me, call me through your tablet. Remember what I’ve taught you.”

Lance nods into his neck. He fights back against the tears that are building behind his eyelids. When Coran pulls away, Lance quickly tries to keep himself composed. He smiles warmly toward Coran, who doesn’t bother to hide the watery shimmer in his own eyes, and then watches him leave the plane. The doors slide shut behind him, the various clicks of locks sliding into place a telltale sign that they're almost ready to go. Lance quickly peers out the window in the hopes of catching sight of Coran and the rest of the servants.

It’s hard to make them out through the darkness of the night, but he catches sight of Coran, who stands beneath a light with the others. The Royal Advisor salutes. Even if he can’t see them, Lance can’t help but return the favor.

* * *

 

He falls asleep sometime during the flight. With the exception of its takeoff, the flight out of Altea and into the sea is smooth and calming. The engine roar is dulled thanks to his headphones and somewhere between listening to the latest Altean pop music and alternative rock from an obscure Galtean-human band, he is out like a light.

Someone shakes him awake. It takes an embarrassingly long time for coherency to seep back into his veins. The moment it does, he jerks in his chair. He’s still strapped down and his vision is blocked by the sleep mask he packed for just this occasion.

The entire plane jerks as it lands. It jumps and rattles everyone inside the cabin, but it soon evens out and Lance can feel their momentum beginning to slow. He pulls off the sleep mask and peers out the window again. It’s barely sunrise from what he can see; the distance is darkened by the surrounding forest. The only lights he can see come from a trail of flickering flames. He rubs his tired eyes.

“We’re here,” Lotor announces, already unbuckling himself. “That took far longer than expected.”

“It must have been the barrier,” Allura murmurs, her brows furrowing thoughtfully. “Did you feel it when we crossed through? It almost felt like magic.”

“So it did.”

“What are you two talking about?” Lance questions, watching them closely.

“Oh, good morning Lance!” Allura beams. The quick glance she gives her husband is not lost on Lance, but he chooses not to press her and instead returns her greeting.

Romelle looks about as exhausted as Lance feels. She must’ve crashed sometime during the night ride to the island, too.

Once they've unstrapped themselves from their chairs, their escorts lead them out of the carrier into the dawn of a new world.

There aren’t many pictures of the elusive Xeisan Islands, and the ones that Lance _has_ seen don’t do the place justice. Despite the darkness of a dying night, Lance can still see the beauty around them. The landing area is small, but big enough for the carrier planes take off. It’s the only location with a large gap amidst the surrounding trees, and despite the pink hues dotting the sky—a sign of the rising sun—Lance can make out the faint outline of the mountainous regions surrounding them.

The air here is crisp, yet cold. It’s not the chill he expects from an Altean winter, but it isn’t the uncomfortable sticky humidity he’d been expecting either.

“So this is the Xeisan Isles,” He mutters to himself. “It’s….” _Beautiful. Breathtaking. Unbelievable_. It’s a floating paradise, high in the sky, separated from the world below. It’s no wonder no other nation knows the Dreki exist. Living on a paradise like this, do they even want to be found?

“Oh _quiznack_ ,” Allura curses beside him. Lance snaps back to reality and spins toward his sister so fast, he almost gets whiplash, but Allura’s attention isn’t turned to him.

He follows her gaze across the open field. Now that the sun is rising higher into the sky, Lance can better make out their landing site. Just a few feet away from their own plane, is a smaller one, adorned in markings Lance is unfamiliar with. The make of the plane is nothing like the ones he’s used to seeing from Altea, and it’s not Galra in nature either.

“I wasn’t aware we were meeting humans here,” He hears Romelle say.

“We weren’t supposed to,” Lotor mutters.

Allura breaks away from the group without another word. She hikes up her dress as she walks, flashing the boots she wears underneath. A couple of guards follow in her wake.

The plane door slides open just as she approaches, and to Lance’s surprise, Allura’s surprised gasp fills the air.

“Oh, Dr. Holt, what a pleasure it is to find you here!”

Dr. Holt, a tall, older human with dull gray hair and a rather thin build, steps out into the rising dawn of a new day. He flashes Allura a bright, friendly smile and immediately bows before her the moment his feet touch the grassy ground. Behind him are two more humans, one slightly taller than the older man and another far shorter than all of them combined. It takes Lance a moment to realize that the shortest one is a child, or he presumes them to be.

“Your Majesty, I am honored,” Dr. Holt greets with a smile. “What a pleasant surprise! Oh, where are my manners? These are my children, Matthew and Katie.”

The shortest one—Katie, Lance presumes—mimics her father’s earlier bow, but the taller one—Matthew—slides in between Allura and his father and takes her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet a beauty such as yourself,” He beams then places a kiss against the top of her hand.

Allura’s guards reach for their weapons, but they stand down upon her signal. Lotor and Lance are immediately by Allura’s side before either of them can blink. Lance cuts in between him and Allura and puffs out his chest threateningly. They’re about the same height, give or take a few inches. Somewhere over Matthew’s shoulder, Lance catches sight of Katie shaking her head and Dr. Holt heaving a resigned sigh.  

“Hey now buddy, my sister is a happily married woman!”

“ _Lance,_ ” Allura warns. “He meant no harm.”

“Oh my god, Matt, we _just_ got here,” Lance hears Katie mutter behind her hand.

“Sorry, sorry,” The other human says, holding up his hands. He backs away slowly from Lance and puts enough distance between them that Lance feels less threatened by his presence.

He shoots his family a proud smirk, but it doesn’t last. A blast of wind scoops down into their landing site as a series of shadows fly overhead. The loud whooshing of wind fills Lance’s ears and before he knows it, their small group is surrounded by a group of bare-chested warriors. Winged Men and women, adorned in skins and armor that remarkably look like scales painted in shades of black and red, surround the entire group, their weapons brandished and gleaming in the first rays of the morning sun. Lance eyes the group of warriors, blue eyes jumping every which way. He feels his throat dry out as he gulps.

_Oh quiznack, they’re all hot._

Just as the articles have described, the Dreki are winged creatures, with impressive sharp horns and muscular tones that Lance tries very hard not to ogle at. Luckily for him, he isn’t the only one. The audible gulp he hears from Matthew the human makes him feel less like a fish out of water.

One of the warriors, the only one wearing some semblance of a shirt, though it’s tight against his impressive pectorals, steps out of alignment. The streak of white in his black hair sticks out like a sore thumb, and the faded, pink scar across the bridge of his nose is almost garish under the bright rays of the sun.

“Welcome to the Xeisan Isles,” The warrior says, his voice surprisingly soft despite his intimidating appearance. There’s a hint of an accent within his words, but Lance’s surprise only intensifies when he realizes the warrior is speaking their common tongue. “Our _Xahe_ is waiting.”

He turns on his heel, his impressive wings tucked tightly against his back, as he leads the rest of the warriors out into the forest ahead. Lance watches them, dumbfounded.

_What in the quiznack is a “xahe”_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my original draft, I didn't plan on giving Matt a larger role to play, but I had an idea that I figured would be interesting to explore. Except, I'm not quite sure how to go about it. I'm curious if anyone would be interested in reading from Matt's POV as well? Please let me know in the comments!
> 
> I'm planning on making this Shiro/Matt as well, but haven't tagged the pairing since they haven't really shown up yet OTL
> 
> As always, a forever grateful special thank you to [lizibabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/profile) for beta reading and making my dribble into coherent English.


	4. Before the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith laments the loss of his right to choose a mate while the clan prepares for the arrival of the Alteans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait OTL I had this chapter on stand by for MONTHS but choose not to update it until chapter 5 was ready. I took a break from writing klance to focus on "Bloodbound" for the persona 5 fandom. There were a lot of things I wasn't sure I wanted to do for this, but after having a heart-to-heart to Lizi, I've decided I'm going to write this story however way I want to. Tropes and all!
> 
> I'm also getting ready to tackle kinktober for the first time ever, so expect to see some klance submissions! Some within this universe and some unrelated to "In Love and Duty".
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for your patience!

Keith finds it impossible to sleep that night. His entire clan falls into a frenzy as they hastily gather the things they need to prepare for the arrival of their guests. It was one thing entertaining the Alteans, but the last-minute news from Tex, Keith’s father, that the humans planned on visiting as well, set Krolia and her people into a state of controlled-panic. Not only did it mean their best hunters would have to hunt in the middle of the night for enough meat to feed their visitors, but it also meant that they had to build makeshift huts for the humans in the meanwhile.

Even with all the chaos, it’s not the _worst_ thing the Dreki have dealt with.

Keith doesn't really mind the humans so much. His father is one after all. Unlike the Alteans, who enjoy their ridiculous customs and parties—for whatever reason—humans are more relaxed. They tend to mind their own business and have always enjoyed observing the Dreki rather than being entertained by them. But unlike the Alteans, humans tend to stay too long and Keith isn’t sure how they will fare once the Xeisan Isle’s shift into the summer hemisphere. His father doesn't seem to mind, and he fares well during the slightly colder seasons, but the others? Keith isn’t so sure.

When the first rays of sun peek beyond the mountains, Keith stirs from his slumber. He’s lucky enough to get at least _some_ sleep, but the way his eyes prickle and burn sours his mood before his day can even get started. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and crawls out of the _d’rth_ with a wide, lazy yawn. He runs fingers through his wild black mane and scratches the scales that cover the nape of his neck. They’re uncomfortably dry, with bits of dull scales flaking beneath his nails as he scratches.

His mood continues to sour as he treads out of his room into the eerily silent halls.

He’s not ready for today, let alone ready to introduce himself to his future, unwanted mate. His scales are missing their usual shimmer, his hair isn’t washed or brushed and none of the garments the _Alkotha_ are preparing for him are ready. Neither of them has gone through the proper ceremonies and Keith feels a sense of bitterness that he won’t get the opportunity to travel to the _Sheri’Xa_ Springs for his blessings.

Throwing the thoughts aside, as to not lose himself in his bitterness again, Keith turns a corner and slams face-first into someone’s stomach.

“Keith!” A familiar voice shrieks. Burly arms wrap around his frame before Keith can get the chance to regain his bearings and suddenly, he’s being shoved back the way he came.

He spits a curse underneath his breath and extends his wings. They smack into the face of the Dreki behind him, who yelps from the sudden pain. His attacker releases Keith from their hold, and whirls on them with a snarl, his muscles tensing for an attack, when he _finally_ catches sight of a familiar face doubled over in pain.

“Oh, Hunk, it’s you.” Keith drops his arms and tilts his head slightly, watching the other Dreki nurse his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you _that_ hard.”

“Jeez, buddy, c’mon,” Hunk grumbles, trying his best to blink the tears away. “Was that really necessary?”

“Was it necessary to scream my name and try to kidnap me?”

“Point taken. But! We’re kinda in a rush here!” Hunk looks like he’s about to grab Keith’s shoulders to get them moving again, but thinks better of it when Keith’s violet eyes narrow. He holds up his hands in a sign of defeat. “Okay, okay! But, your Nas’e sent me here to get you prepared. Your mate is about to arrive in the village and you still look like, uh, well—“

Keith raises an eyebrow, silently urging Hunk to continue.

“Like you but more… feral.”

“Oh good, and here I was worried our guests would think I’m tame,” Keith deadpans. “I should roll in the mud. Maybe that’ll scare off my mate.”

“I can’t let you do that!” Hunk says. “Xahe gave me very strict orders to get you ready while the carim escort them here.”

At the mention of the warriors, Keith’s interest is piqued. If Krolia sent out some members of the carim to escort their guests into the village then that must mean Shiro is the one leading the way. He’ll be the first one in the entire clan to see what his mate looks like, and somehow, Keith feels slightly more at ease with the idea. Shiro is an excellent judge of character. If anything is remotely off about Keith’s future mate, he’s sure Shiro will tell them. Maybe he’ll even be able to call the whole thing off?

It’s a long shot, but Keith can’t help but hope. He turns his attention back to Hunk and examines his companion. Hunk, like Shiro, is one of Keith’s very few friends. He was born two years after Keith, during the island’s trek through the colder hemispheres. He is the biggest in their generation so far, both in his bipedal form and in his dragon form, but despite his stocky build, he is, by far, the gentlest person and their _best_ cook Keith has ever known. Hunk isn’t necessarily their best _hunter_ , he's better at building and cooking than he is at anything else, but Keith knows his friend’s talents lie in other places like his intelligence.

Taking a good look at him now, Keith suddenly realizes that Hunk isn’t dressed in his casual clothes. He’s dressed in his ceremonial garments, the ones all clan members wear when the clans join for their biannual gathering. He’s in fine leather, outfitted for his massive size, with old scales from his family embedded into the leather—a means of armor for their shifted forms. He’s missing the fur cape that’s meant to be draped over his shoulders, but Keith suspects the damn thing isn’t too far away. It’s still relatively cold on the isles during this time in their movement, but Keith—being a Dreki born with an affinity for fire—isn’t too keen on having to wear his own furs today.

“This day just gets better and better,” he grumbles. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You should cheer up, Keith,” Hunk says with a smile Keith doesn’t see but can imagine perfectly on his face. “Meeting new civilizations is great! I mean, look how it turned out for your _dala’xa_!”

“My dala’xa got to _choose_ each other,” He states, a hint of a growl tingeing his tone. “I’m not getting that choice.”

Hunk splutters for a rebuttal, but Keith tunes out the rest of the conversation as they trudge further down the hall and into the wash chambers.

* * *

 

Keith hates the way he smells, all perfumed and _proper_ , as though he's some sort of civilized bastard instead of the wild dragon he knows he is. The furs are heavy against his shoulders, and the gold that decorates his onyx black horns shimmers brightly in the sun’s light. It's heavy on his head too, just like everything else he wears, and the longer he stands waiting for the damn Xeno to appear, the more agitated he gets.

He wants nothing more than to rip off the furs and jewelry shrouding his body. He’s too damn hot under all the layers. The fire that rages within him pulsates in tandem with his heart. It’s a bad idea to release the tension, especially when the entire clan has the hidden village decorated in their finest flowers and leathers. As nice as it would be to let loose the hellfire within, Keith isn’t in the mood to face his Nas’e’s wrath. Or the clans. Or the _elders'_ for that matter.

Krolia is fearsome in her own right, but there’s something about the elders that strike more fear into Keith’s heart than his Nas’e ever could.

He snaps out of his thoughts just in time to hear the remaining carim announce the arrival of the others. Keith rolls his eyes and releases an irritated sigh.

“Finally. Took them long enough.” He mutters, only loud enough for Krolia and Texas to hear.

His father, also dressed in their best furs and scaly, leather armor barely controls the snort that escapes his lips. Krolia gives them both a look, but Keith can pick up the scent of her amusement just beneath the garish smelling perfumes of the flowers the Alkotha must have bathed her in.

Krolia looks about as regal as the Dreki can get. The furs draped across her shoulders are pitch black, skinned from the largest, strongest creature deep within the jungle of the isles. The golden cuffs adorning her horns are as intricate as they are heavy looking. They sparkle brightly in the sun, temporarily blinding him every time she moves her head. The leather skins she wears are dyed in various hues of reds and purples. She’s the only one in the field of browns and greens to wear different colors—they serve as a symbol of her status as their leader—and the large streaks of violet that are stained onto her cheeks are a sign of _who_ she is.

Tattoos are a symbol of individuality among the Dreki. It’s a rite of passage Keith will earn, and it's one he looks forward to.

Shiro is the first to break through the foliage of the jungle. His dark eyes are trained straight ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line as he approaches. The moment he’s past the flowery archway, he smiles. Behind him, Keith catches sight of the Alteans. The Xahe and Xa are the easiest for him to pick out. They’re taller than the humans and unnaturally beautiful with their multicolored eyes and hair as white as snow. The Xa’s purple skin catches Keith’s immediate attention.

He’s never actually met the leaders of the Altean and Galran kingdoms before. Everything he knows about the Xeno comes from the explorers: the Dreki strong enough to fly beyond the barrier that protects their island. The lucky bastards who can see the world for what it truly is. The Xa’s purple skin is, perhaps, the most unusual thing Keith has ever seen. He’s the only one among their group with such a color, and Keith can’t help but wonder what it means.

His curiosity is short-lived, however, when his eyes catch sight of the male Altean trailing behind them.

Suddenly, his breath hitches; his eyes widen. The Altean is tall, but not too tall. He’s lanky in form, with broad shoulders and a sharp chin. His ears peak in the way Keith has come to familiarize with the Alteans and the markings that adorn the Altean’s cheeks are a bright aqua like his clothes. His hair is just as white as the others, though there’s a tinge of ethereal beauty within his tresses that makes it hard for Keith to look away.

“Alteans sure are pretty, aren’t they?” Texas chortles, nudging Keith.

Keith stumbles slightly from the unexpected contact, but it doesn’t dissuade him from watching the lanky Altean.

Shiro pulls to a stop in front of them and bows respectfully.

“Xahe, I present to you, the leaders of Altea and Daibazaal: Xahe Allura and Xa Lotor and their guests.”

Allura and Lotor mimic Shiro’s bow. The rest of the group does the same, though Keith notices the delay from the lanky Altean’s movements. The rest of their introductions fall on deaf ears as Keith watches the Altean. From his clothing to his stance, to the flowery way the Altean smells, Keith can’t seem to pull his attention away.

Suddenly, the Altean’s crystal blue eyes fall on him.

Keith chokes.

“Oh dear, are you alright?” Allura asks, but it’s Krolia who pats him harshly on the back, her expression deadpan.

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine.” She scans the rest of the group until her eyes fall onto the lanky Altean beside Allura. “And is this the one you have promised us?”

Keith finally manages to regain his bearings and tries to will the heat of his blush away. He prays to the Old Deities that he isn’t as red as he thinks he is, but his worries immediately cease the moment the lanky Altean steps out of alignment. He stands in front of them with a fire in his eyes that Keith isn’t sure he understands. He _does_ like it, though.

“My name is Lance, Prince of Altea,” He says and bows before Krolia in one fluid movement. “It is an honor to finally meet my future… family.”

His hesitation is not lost on Keith or the way the Altean—Lance's—hands tremble as he retreats back into alignment. Krolia’s smile is warm, but it does nothing to assuage the creeping anxiety Keith can smell wafting from the young prince.

“Welcome to the Xeisan Isles,” Texas adds, gesturing to the decorated hidden village. “Let’s eat some breakfast shall we?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very, very, very special shout out to [lizibabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/profile) for beta reading and being an amazing friend despite my dumbassery ♥
> 
> Vocabulary:
> 
> Das’a - Father/Dad  
> Nas’e - Mother/Mom  
> Xahe - Female Leader  
> Xa - Male Leader  
> Xalep – Prince/male heir  
> Xahala – princess/female heir  
> Kasit - Children/Teens  
> Kas – Baby  
> Kasï – babies (plural)  
> Xeno – foreigner/non-dreki  
> Carim – guard/knight  
> D’rth – place of rest/bednest  
> Alkotha – unmated old woman  
> Sheri’Xa – Great King  
> Dala’xa – parents  
> Halxael – mateship/marriage  
> Lexal – mate/fiance

**Author's Note:**

> Forever thankful and grateful to [lizibabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/profile) for beta reading and being a wonderful friend ♥.
> 
> Other VLD (mostly klance) fics I've written:
> 
> [Klance Paradise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419646/chapters/35788938) \- a collection of klance one-shots and/or drabbles that range from fluffy to smutty, and a few zine written pieces. Updates sporadically.
> 
> [Convalescence of a Lovesick Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688975/chapters/44322388) \- a klance fic in which Keith struggles with Lance's undiagnosed mental illness. Written for the klance pinefest 2018-2019
> 
> [The Bilingual Struggle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15166880) \- a gen. canon compliant one-shot in which Lance struggles to find a word in English and Spanish
> 
> [How to be a Big Time YouTube Star](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7970893/chapters/18232456) \- a klance youtube AU; Lance starts up a youtube channel. Updates sporadically.
> 
> [Bad Things Happen Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931797/chapters/34739813) \- A collection of one-shots written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo on tumblr. Completed. Heed the tags.
> 
>  
> 
> My socials:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bluecrownfics?lang=en)  
> [tumblr](http://bluecrownfiction.tumblr.com/)


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